


One Long Breath of Air

by Chash



Series: Better Ways to Be Alive [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 06:58:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16259021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Clarke Griffin--second cousin, once removed--is the next in a long line of relatives Madi has been sent to live with. All of them are nice and well-meaning, but none of them really want her. They're not ready to put up with having a first kid or another kid or--her, really. They don't really want to deal with her.Just because Clarke is younger than she expected and lives in a weird house in a small town full of friendly people, it doesn't mean this time is going to be different. Madi knows exactly how this goes.





	One Long Breath of Air

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be a series with at least one more part and maybe more parts, and there will be Bellarke later! For now, Bellamy has kittens, so let that tide you over.

By the time Madi gets sent to live with Clarke Griffin--who is, apparently, her second cousin once removed, whatever _that_ means--she has obviously gone through a lot of closer relatives, and she pretty much knows the drill. Clarke will let her stay for a month or two, until she realizes that even kids as old as Madi are a lot of work, and then she'll tell social services that she's not really prepared for this or isn't a fit guardian or whatever, and Madi will go back into the system until they can dig up an even more distant relative to try out that whole parenting thing. That's how it goes, and how she assumes it will continue to go until she hits eighteen; her dad came from a big family, and there's always someone else to find, but none of them are looking for her.

So she lets her social worker take her out of the city, past the suburbs and the last stop on the train line, off the highway and into Eden.

Then she frowns. "Eden? Really?"

"What?" asks Gina. She's nice enough, as social workers go, probably the nicest one Madi's had so far, but she's a little scattered sometimes. Madi thinks she has a lot on her plate.

"Just seems like kind of a weird name. Am I going to get kicked out if I eat an apple?"

"I doubt it," Gina says, smiling. "I guess whoever founded the town must have really liked the valley. I hope you will too. I haven't been before, but I've heard it's really nice."

Madi shrugs. "I've probably spent time in worse places."

Gina glances at her sidelong, clearly wanting to say something comforting, but she's seen Madi's file. She knows exactly how much luck Madi hasn't had with foster families, and she's considerate enough to not act like this one is going to magically and inexplicably be the one that works out.

Instead, she says, "That's the spirit," and Madi has to smile.

"Uh huh. That's me, always looking on the bright side."

The house that Gina stops at is bigger than she was expecting, since Clarke apparently lives alone. She's used to city real estate, and family real estate, honestly. None of her relatives or foster families have ever been single.

It's not just the size of the house that throws her, though, but the whole feel of it. There's a big yard full of gnarled trees casting shadows, and the house is dark wood, almost black, with red shutters and a red door like a bloody mouth. It's one of those houses you see on the cover of a horror novel, with a tagline like _the call is coming from inside the house_.

Even Gina seems a little thrown. "I think this is it. Do you see a number anywhere?"

"Fifty-six," says Madi. "On the mail box."

"Okay! This is it."

The door opens and a woman comes out. She doesn't look much like any relative of Madi's, or like the person who would live in this house, if she's honest. She's _young_ , for one thing, probably in her twenties or early thirties, blonde and on the small side, with bright magenta streaks in her hair. And she seems nervous too, her smile shy as she walks to the car. 

"That must be her," says Gina. "Ready?"

"Sure."

It's a long, sparse street that Madi sees when she gets out of the car. The other yards have fewer trees better groomed lawns, but that only makes them feel farther away, and it's hard not to worry that this woman is a serial killer who lures kids into her fucked up backwoods murder palace. There's a house across the street, but she still thinks no one would hear her scream.

"Hi, Ms. Griffin?" says Gina.

"Hi, you must be the social worker. Ms. Martin?"

"Gina is fine."

"Cool, so is Clarke." She turns her attention to Madi, smile apparently genuine. "And you're Madison?"

"Madi."

"Madi," she repeats. "Nice to meet you."

"Who are you again? Like, relative to me."

"Your great-grandfather and my grandmother were siblings. Which I know isn't a lot to have in common."

She shrugs. "You're not the most obscure relative social services has dug up."

"Really?"

"Okay," she admits. "I guess you probably are. How did you find out about me?"

She glances at Gina. "It's kind of a long story. My grandmother was keeping an eye on you."

"Creepy."

"You're related," she says, but she sounds amused. "Or you were. She passed away a few months ago. She told me about you before she died. Told me I should think about taking you, if I could."

Even though she knows she has all sorts of family out there, it's weird to think that one of them was actually looking out for her like that. She never even met her great-grandfather, but his sister knew about her and cared. For all Madi knows, she's the one who had been digging up all these random people, not social services like she thought.

"Okay, I guess that's mostly nice. Only a little creepy."

"I think she would have taken you herself, if she could have, but she'd been sick for a while." She clears her throat, awkward, turns her attention to Gina. "So, what do we need to do? I faxed you the paperwork, is there anything else you need from me?"

Madi zones out Gina's instructions, which she already knows, focuses instead on the yard. The grass needs to be mowed, but it's not actually as untidy as she thought it was at first glance. The messiness seems to be actual garden beds, full of herbs or something else that's not flowering, and there are even some chickens pecking around a coop on the side of the house. It feels like getting shoved back in time, like they drove through some sort of portal to a fairy tale.

"It was my grandmother's house," says Clarke, surprising her. "She left it to me when she died. I'm still getting used to it."

"Yeah, it looks like it would take getting used to."

Gina unloads Madi's stuff from the car and they say their goodbyes, and then there's that familiar awkward stage of being left alone with a stranger whose DNA sort of resembles hers with no schedule. She'd bet money that Clarke is seeing all the empty hours between now and bedtime and freaking out.

But if she is, she gives no indication of it. She just smiles at Madi, a little too bright. "So, you want to see your room?" 

"Sure."

The interior of the house is a little more what Madi would expect from a woman Clarke's age. The furniture is a little beat up, but there's a nice TV with a gaming system--PlayStation, maybe?--hooked up, and a surprising amount of sunlight coming in through the windows, given how shady the yard looked. The walls are pale green, crowded with art and family photographs, a big improvement over the bleak, dark hole she was expecting.

"I've been working on redecorating," Clarke explains. "I loved Gram, but a lot of her stuff wasn't me. And other people wanted it."

"Other people?"

"Her kids, my cousins, the rest of the family."

Somehow, Madi had assumed that Clarke was the only person in the picture, as irrational as that is. Even knowing how much family is scattered around, it felt like there must not have been anyone else who could get this stuff.

"Why did she leave you the house?"

"A few reasons. She and I were always close, and I loved it here. I used to come here for summer vacation. And I was kind of at loose ends. My girlfriend and I had broken up, I didn't like my job, so she told me to come stay with her for a while. And then she put me in the will, when she realized she was--"

"Sorry," Madi says, mostly so Clarke won't feel like she needs to be talking. "For, you know."

"She had a good run. That's what she said, anyway. And I'm glad I could be with her. Your room is in here," she adds. "We can go get you some more stuff later, but I think there's enough in here for tonight."

The room is larger than most of the ones she's had, fitting more with the old aesthetic of the house than the other rooms. The bed wood-framed, neatly made with a patchwork quilt in red and green. The dresser and shelves match it, made from the same dark wood, and there's a woven carpet on the floor, a bright spot of yellow like the sun in the middle of the room. The shelves are packed full of books, but Madi would be amazed if any were published this century. Everything feels like it's been here since the house was built, which she assumes was hundreds of years ago.

"This is where I stayed when I was a kid," says Clarke. "The grandkids' room. I think it was my Uncle Charlie's, he was her youngest. By the time he left home, my cousin Tyler was old enough to be sleeping over, so Gram just put him in here. I hope it's okay."

"I've stayed worse places."

"Good, I guess." She clears her throat. "How many places have you stayed? It sounded like you moved around a lot."

"This is number ten."

Clarke is doing the math in her head. Madi's parents died when she was six, and she's twelve now, so it's not quite an average of two placements a year, but it's close. Her record was thirteen months with a nice foster family who couldn't take her with them when the husband got reassigned to work in Germany, and the shortest was only two weeks with her Uncle Jim, who was in no way prepared to be a parent. She would have left the first day, if she could have, he was that obviously unfit.

She's having trouble getting a read on Clarke, though. It'll be interesting to see how long this one lasts.

"That must be tough."

"You think?"

Clarke winces, and she feels a little bad. "Yeah, sorry. I guess that was a stupid thing to say. My room's through here," she adds, jerking her head towards another door. "And there's a bathroom down the hall. My room has one attached, so we won't be fighting over the shower."

"Okay."

Clarke worries her lip. "I know there's a lot more I should be telling you, but I don't really know what. Feedback?"

"You're doing fine."

"Are you hungry? Thirsty? I have tea and stuff downstairs."

She's trying, hard and apparently genuinely, and Madi doesn't need to be a jerk. Not yet, anyway. She can put in the effort for a week or two.

"A snack would be good."

The dining room table is definitely Clarke's grandmother's, this giant, solid thing that looks like someone has performed ritual sacrifices on it, all dark wood and twisted legs, polished like a mirror. It's equally beautiful and terrifying, and Madi can't stop staring.

So of course, Clarke catches her. "It's a lot, right?"

"Wow."

"My best friend made it for me. As a welcome present."

Madi startles. "Wait, it's _yours_?"

Clarke's mouth twists, but the smile seems fond, genuine. "He thinks he's funny. And, honestly, it's awesome. I couldn't not take it. But the house kind of has a reputation."

"Because it's really creepy?"

"Pretty much. Everyone thought my grandmother was a witch, or the house was haunted, or--" She waves her hand, vague. "All the kid stuff. You'll hear it too."

"So your friend made you a weird table to rub it in?"

"He said if I was going to be a witch, I needed a witch table. I think he's coming for dinner, you can ask him what he was thinking yourself. Have a seat," she adds, and once Madi's settled, she slides a plate of apple slices and carrots in front of her.

"Wholesome," says Madi.

"I'm trying, anyway. I have peanut butter for the apple if you want, your file said no allergies, but I wasn't sure what you liked."

"This is fine."

Clarke's jaw works for a second, and then she sinks into the chair across from Madi, limp and exhausted. "Is there something else I should be doing?"

"No, you're fine." But she looks so defeated, it's impossible to not feel bad for her. "Look, I get it. You're trying really hard, and I appreciate it? I've just done this a lot. It's hard for me to get that excited about it."

She smiles, even if she doesn't look _pleased_ about it. "I guess that makes sense."

"What do you do?" she asks. Even if she can't be excited, she can be nice.

"I work for an online publisher, doing all their graphics and formatting stuff. It's pretty cool, honestly. I get to design covers and promotional materials, and I work from home."

"And you're a lesbian?" Some of the older kids in her last foster home were LGBT, so she knows something about it, but she's never actually known any adults who identify that way.

"Bisexual."

"And you and your girlfriend broke up?"

"About--eight months ago? Something like that."

"Why did you break up? What happened?"

"We were--" Clarke sighs. "It was tough. Sometimes you love someone, but you're not right for each other. She didn't get along with my friends, I didn't get along with her friends, it was just--we didn't fit."

"Including your best friend? Who lives here?"

"I was living in the city, it's just an hour away. It wasn't like I couldn't come out to see him, or vice versa. But, yeah, he was one of the people who pointed out that I dropped off the face of the earth when I started dating Lexa."

"Did he tell you to get a kid too?"

"He didn't tell me not to. Why?"

Madi pushes a carrot stick around the plate. "I guess I'm wondering why you decided to take me. You're single, you're pretty young. We're not even that closely related, so you don't have to feel bad. So--why?"

"Because I can. I have enough room and enough money to take care of you."

"Yeah, but you're not going to."

"No?"

"No offense, but I'm guessing you aren't really ready for this. No one else has been. And most of them at least had kids, so they knew what they were getting into."

"Which is what? You seem pretty good to me so far."

The statement rips a hole in Madi's chest, through her armor and ribs, through all her defenses. Because she's always thought she _was_ pretty good. Like every orphan in every story ever told, she doesn't get why no one wants her. 

But no one ever has, and there's no reason Clarke should be the one to start.

"I'm not saying it's going to be easy or that I know all the answers," says Clarke. "But if you tell me what you need, I'll try to give it to you. And I won't get rid of you unless you want to go."

It's not like she can believe that. Clarke's not the first nice person with good intentions who will realize that, when push comes to shove, Madi isn't really a priority for her. 

But as long as she doesn't forget that, she can let Clarke believe this is going to work. Arguing will just make it worse.

"Okay," she says. "Cool."

Judging from Clarke's expression, she doesn't sell _convinced_. But at least she doesn't push either.

"Cool," she agrees. "What now?"

*

Clarke's best friend shows up an hour later with a small wooden chest and two cats.

The cats are actually following him, and Madi does a double take when she sees them, assuming--not unreasonably, if you ask her--they must be dogs. They don't look like the kind of dogs this guy would have--he's broad and strong, with curly black hair and a neat beard, wearing worn jeans and a soft-looking flannel shirt, the kind of person who should be accompanied by dogs the size of horses--but even chihuahuas would fit more than two cats trotting after him.

But they're cats. Definitely, unambiguously, undeniably cats, tails held high, ears alert. 

Clarke's front yard has a fence, but it ends with the back of the house, and Clarke explained it was just to protect the garden and the chickens from animals. The back is open, full of more scattered trees that get thicker leading into the woods. Clarke said Madi could explore those if she wanted to, but she's familiarizing herself with the yard first, trying to convince herself that she hasn't been brought to some haunted nightmare cabin. Which, honestly, is only half working. The forest is pretty, but pretty much all forests look a little sinister if you're already nervous.

And the random guy just walking out of there with two cats following him doesn't help, especially when he says, "Hey, you must be Madison."

"Madi," she says, automatic. "Are you Clarke's best friend?"

"Bellamy," he says, juggling the chest he's carrying so he can offer his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Is that your first name or your last name? Or do you only have one?"

His mouth quirks. "Bellamy Blake. But I didn't want you calling me Mr. Blake or anything."

"Okay. What's in the chest?"

"Nothing yet. It's for you."

"For me?"

He shifts a little, awkward. One of the cats, an orange tabby, butts against his legs, while the other, black with a single white paw, comes to investigate Madi. Those probably should have been the first thing she asked about, but they're almost _too_ weird. She had to build to them.

"I figured you could use something to--" He cuts himself off, starts over. "It's a new place, and you don't know anyone. There's a combination lock inside, so anything you put in here is just yours."

An lump rises in Madi's throat; it's such an unexpected kindness, one most people wouldn't think of. But it's always hard to feel like new places are _hers_ , like anything truly belongs to her.

"Thank you," she says, and clears her throat before he can respond. "What's up with the cats?"

"They're assholes," he says, clearly without thinking about it, because he immediately flushes. "How old are you?"

"Twelve. I know the word _asshole_. Do they just follow you around?"

"Bellamy's got animal magnetism," says Clarke, startling them both. She's leaning against the frame of the back door, watching them with a smile playing around her lips. "Just two cats is a lot of restraint for him."

"I wouldn't have brought any, but it's not like they listen to me. But most of them just want to stay home with the kittens."

"How are they doing, by the way?"

"They're kittens. They're tiny and adorable and already walking all over me."

"Bellamy is basically always surrounded by adorable animals," Clarke explains to Madi. "He finds injured birds in the woods and nurses them back to health."

"And he makes tables?" She looks down at the chest still in his arms. "And boxes?"

"Everyone needs a hobby," he says. "What are you cooking? Do I need to save it?"

"I can cook," says Clarke, and the two of them head inside, Clarke leaving the door open so that Madi can follow if she wants. The orange tabby goes in with them, but the black cat stays, and Madi drops down, letting it sniff her fingers and then push its head against her hand, demanding to be scratched.

"This could be worse, right?" The cat meows, nudges its head against her knee. "Yeah, I think so too."

*

"Is that house really haunted?"

For her second morning in Eden, Madi decided to branch out in her exploring, after spending her first day feeling awkward in her room while Clarke worked. She had two directions where she could go, towards the woods and towards the town, and she picked the town. Clarke gave her directions to make it to the commercial area, which was just one left turn at the top of the street, a right turn when that street ended, and then a left turn on the street that has stores on it.

She's not quite all the way to the stores when the boy asks her the question, making her jump.

"What?"

"The house you're living in. Is it haunted?"

He's about her age, maybe a little younger, with dark hair and a bright smile. A friendly smile, teasing, inviting her in on the joke. "I've only been there for like a day," she says. "How would I know if it's haunted yet?"

"Depends on how haunted it is. It might be really obvious."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Who wouldn't? For _years_ that place was just the witch's house, and now suddenly there's a new witch and a kid in there. This is the time to get intel."

"She's not a witch," Madi says. "Her grandmother lived there. She used to play there in the summer." But the math makes sense; Clarke said she was twenty-nine, so if she spent summers there when she was a kid, she would have stopped at eighteen, at the latest. That's probably before this kid was born.

"Witches could have kids," he says. "No one said they couldn't."

She doesn't want to admit she can't argue the point, so she settles on, "Who are you?" 

The boy offers his hand. "Jordan Green. I live down the street," he adds, with a jerk of his head.

"Madi Arnold," says Madi. "I live in the haunted house, I guess."

"Does it look haunted inside too?"

"Not all of it. Clarke knows you guys think that, by the way. That her house is haunted or cursed or whatever. She heard the same thing when she was a kid."

"Well, it looks really haunted. Where are you going?"

She gives it some thought. "Why do you want to know?"

"Curious. And bored. Gaia--that's my best friend--has swimming every morning in summer, so I don't have anything to do until she gets out of that."

"I'm just looking around," Madi says. "Clarke said I could explore."

"Why are you living with her?"

"My parents died when I was six, I've just been getting passed from relative to relative since then. Clarke is really distant, so I guess they're getting desperate."

"How old are you?"

"Twelve," she says. "Almost."

His eyes narrow. "When?"

"In a couple months."

" _When_ in a couple months?"

"Why?"

"I want to know how close to twelve you are."

She scowls. "September 30."

"August just started. That's basically two whole months."

"How old are _you_?" she counters.

"Eleven and a half. My birthday is in March," he adds, before she can press the point. "So really half."

A grudging smile tugs at her lips. "I'm still older than you."

"Yeah but not by that much. You want me to show you around?"

As Jordan takes her to his favorite places, she learns more about him too. His parents were in high school when they had him, and, as he puts it, they wanted him but couldn't take him yet. He lived with his grandparents until his parents finished with college, and then the two of them agreed that Jordan would live with his dad, with his mom visiting for holidays and birthdays when she could. They moved here when Jordan was seven, which is long enough that he pretty much considers himself an expert on the place.

And it's a nice little town, at least the parts of it Jordan goes to. The main street has a deli, which is where the kids are most likely to kill time over the summer, and an ice cream store, which is expensive but worth saving up for. There's a game store that Jordan's dad co-owns with his best friend, but Jordan explains they aren't open yet because nerds sleep late.

"That's what Jasper says. I'm named after him," he adds, proud. "And he says he's also a nerd and sleeps late, so he knows what he's talking about. Do you like board games?"

"I guess," Madi says, caught off guard. "I never thought about it much? One time one of my foster siblings and I got in a fight over Monopoly."

"Oh, yeah, not Monopoly. Indie board games. We can come by later, once they're open. I'll teach you."

"Why?" she has to ask.

"Because it's fun?"

"Why are you being so friendly? I could suck."

"Yeah, but until you suck, I can be friendly! And I want to see the haunted house and meet the witch. I'm basically using you."

"It's not haunted. It's pretty normal. Clarke works from home so I guess she doesn't leave much, but she goes shopping and stuff, right? You've seen her. She doesn't look like a witch."

"Maybe not a fairy tale witch, but I don't want to limit myself. Maybe she's a Harry Potter witch or something."

"If anyone's a witch, it's Bellamy. He's the one with cats following him around."

Jordan perks up. "You met Bellamy?"

"Yeah, he and Clarke are friends."

He somehow perks up even more, like every part of this just makes it better. "Seriously?"

"Is that exciting?"

"Bellamy is, like--if Clarke's a bad witch, Bellamy's a good witch."

"Clarke's not a bad witch," she snaps, surprised by how defensive she feels about it.

"Okay, but--you know when you're little, and you've got all these stories about places? Like this one is the haunted house and that tree is good luck and stuff?"

"You _still_ have those stories," Madi points out. "You're telling them now."

"Yeah, but--when you're a kid, you really believe it. And Bellamy's, like--he's great for stories. Even better than your aunt or whatever. He lives in the woods, far from everyone, and if anyone ever found a hurt animal, we brought it to him and he'd fix it. And he has like twenty stray cats who just follow him around. When we were little, we thought they spied for him."

Given what she's seen of him so far, Madi totally gets it. If she had been a year or two younger, she would have thought he was totally some magical being. Even now, she kind of thinks that. Just a little.

"Well, he and Clarke like each other. He came for dinner last night and they've been friends for like--forever. So if he's good, she is too."

"Or if she's evil, he is too."

His smile is infectious, and Madi doesn't fight her urge to return it. He could be a good person to hang out with over the summer. And maybe his friend Gaia is cool too. She wouldn't mind having a social circle for however long she's here, and she has no better way to find one.

"I guess we just have to see if we can figure it out," she says. "They could be like Magneto and Professor X. On different sides, but still friends."

"The possibilities are endless. Do you want to come check out the park? It's pretty cool." 

Her smile is back, twitching onto her face without her even realizing it. Clarke won't give her up right away, she's too stubborn. Madi should get to the end of summer here, at least, and this could be a good summer. A friend on the first day, and something to do with him, a fun, silly kind of project, finding out if her house is haunted, if her cousin or her cousin's friend is magic.

It should be a good time, for as long as she's here.

"Yeah," she tells Jordan. "I'm in."

*

They go to visit Bellamy the next Friday, once Gaia is done with swim practice, for two reasons: Madi wants to see where he lives, and he apparently has kittens. Everyone wants to see the kittens.

"We tried to go right after school let out," Gaia explains, "but he said they were too little to meet people."

Madi makes a face. "Do you guys just wander into his house whenever you want?"

"Not _into_ his house," says Jordan. "Just to the door. He's usually home, working. He doesn't mind us visiting."

Everywhere in Eden seems to be in walking distance of Clarke's house, which is another adjustment for Madi. She's lived in neighborhoods before, but never ones that feel so complete on their own. She's always been aware of where the city is, how much more there is around.

Here, it's houses, a few shops, and then woods, not thick, but present and uncivilized. There are parks, but they're surrounded on all sides by wilds that feel wild even when they only go for a few blocks. No one is tending to this or monitoring it, no one knows what's in there, really.

Bellamy lives one of those wild places, and while his house is connected to the road with a long driveway, they go there through the woods. The paths aren't marked, just packed solid by years of traffic. It's not exactly scary, but there is something overwhelming about it for Madi. She's always been a city girl, and being out here, she can't help wondering what's around them, what could be coming.

Jordan and Gaia show no such nerves. They've been here their whole lives, know the woods like the back of their hands. They point out the other paths they aren't taking, to the swimming hole, towards the houses of people she doesn't know. Jordan picks up sticks and slashes at bushes as they pass while Gaia points out different kinds of plants and their uses for repelling bugs or healing scrapes. They're definitely kind of nerdy weirdos, but it's not like Madi's ever been particularly popular herself. This could be a good niche for her.

Bellamy's house, once they get there, is quaint and surprisingly small, more of a cabin, painted blue and divided in half with white trim down the center.

"The left side is where he lives," says Gaia. "And the right side is his workshop."

Madi's never been great with left versus right, so she just nods like she gets it. "Cool."

The black cat with the white paw runs out to greet them, meowing, and then a dog follows, a big, solid one, the kind that she thought would suit Jim last night. Madi kneels down to pick up the cat while the dog sniffs everyone excitedly, tail wagging like it might fly off.

"The dog is Maximus," says Gaia. "And that cat is Macula. I think. It's hard to keep track of all the cats."

"And that's not even counting the kittens," adds Jordan, leading them around to the front. As they approach, Madi can hear the sound of machinery coming from the house, and tinny music, probably from a radio. The orange tabby shows up, and a couple other cats, enough that she's wondering how Bellamy can possibly feed them all. It seems like way too many cats to fit in the house.

"We have to wait until the noise stops," Gaia tells her, as they round the corner. The workshop is open, full of half-finished furniture and tools, with Bellamy in the middle, all his focus on his work. "He gets mad if we startle him with power tools."

"I wonder why," Madi murmurs. "It can't be safe doing it with this many cats around."

"The cats never bother him when he's working," says Jordan. "Yet more evidence that he has some kind of magic bond with them."

Gaia elbows him. "We don't know it's _magic_. He could be a mutant or something."

"Marvel mutants are basically magic."

The saw turns off and the dog barks softly, jerking Bellamy's attention from whatever he's working on. It takes him a second to recognize them, but he smiles when he does, broad and easy. "Hey, y'all. What's up?"

"Madi didn't know where you lived," says Jordan. "And we didn't know if the kittens were old enough to meet yet."

Bellamy's mouth twitches. "I think they could probably take visitors. They're getting restless. And overconfident." He shakes his shoulders out. "Come on, they're in the loft."

He takes them through a door connecting the workshop to the living space, which doesn't feel as small inside as it looks from the outside. The kitchen and living room are one big open room, with doors leading to a bedroom and a bathroom, but large windows let in long beams of sunlight and high ceilings make everything feel big and bright. Plus, there are, in addition to shelves, ledges and ropes all over the walls, like every vertical surface is a cat playground. Macula, the white-footed cat, weaves through Madi's legs, jumping up onto a series of ledges and disappearing through an opening in the wall.

"Did you build this house?" she asks, frowning at Bellamy.

"Yeah. Undeveloped land is cheaper and this way I got exactly what I wanted."

"A tiny house full of cats," says Jordan. "You know, if you were a girl you'd be a crazy cat lady."

"You know, when people tell you that you take after your namesake, it's not always a good thing," Bellamy shoots back. "Don't say crazy."

"Sorry. Can we go into the loft?"

"Yeah." He opens up a door that Madi assumed led to a closet, but instead it opens into a ladder and a much higher door. "Just two at a time, remember?"

"You can go first," Jordan says, magnanimous. "I've been up there before."

"Actually I have, like, a billion questions for Bellamy," Madi says. "You guys can go ahead."

He doesn't need to be told twice. He gestures Gaia up first and then follows her, and there's distant cooing at however many kittens are currently up there.

"Did you build a special loft for your cats?" Madi asks.

"I also sleep up there when I have guests. It's a little cramped and weird, but it works. And it's not just cats," he adds, like he's trying to regain some amount of adult dignity _now_ , when it's far too late. "But all the cats have kittens up there."

"How many cats is _all_ the cats? Do we need to have an intervention?"

"You met me last week," he points out. "You don't get to decide I need an intervention."

"That's not a concrete number of cats."

"Six," he says. "Plus the kittens. But this is only my third litter of kittens."

"How many kittens are there?"

"Five. I'm just keeping one."

"Seriously, why?"

"They won't leave me alone," he says, like somehow the cats are to blame for his hoarding. "I figured I should just lean into it."

"What are you doing with the other four kittens?"

"Giving them away. Clarke might let you have one."

She snorts. "That's a really bad idea."

"Why?"

She opens and closes her mouth, settles on, "Because if she changes her mind about me, she'll be stuck with a kitten."

"She's not going to change her mind. I'm serious," he adds, pitching his voice low and earnest. "We talked about it. She said she wouldn't take you unless she was sure she could keep you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He considers her for a long moment. "My sister went into foster care after our mom died. I was nineteen, but she was only thirteen, so she needed a new guardian. Not that I didn't," he adds. "I could have used some more backup. But legally I was okay. Anyway, social services tracked down her uncle and sent her to live with him. He put up with her for a couple months and then decided it wasn't worth the trouble and told them to put her back in the system."

"What happened to her?"

"I took her. I talked to Clarke about it first, and she asked me what I'd do if I felt like I couldn't handle it."

"And?" Madi asks. Somehow, her whole body is lit up, on tenterhooks.

"I said I'd try harder. And call her to talk me down. So we talked about it a lot. She knows what she's getting into. As much as she can."

"And you're here to talk her down?"

"I am." He reaches over to scratch a gray cat behind the ear. "You know why I have so many cats?"

"Because you're kind of a weirdo?"

He snorts. "That too. But I started with this one, Umbra. We got her when my sister moved in. I thought a pet would be good for her, and I didn't think we had time to take care of a dog. She's the only cat I actually got on purpose. The others I found and they didn't have owners. I found the cat that had kittens when she was already pregnant. And some of them--you know I've got a reputation."

"And you deserve it."

"I do. But when people get cats and realize they can't take them, they bring them to me. I think there are two kinds of people when it comes to pets: the people who think getting a pet means it's yours and you keep it for the rest of your life, and the people who get rid of it as soon as it's too much trouble. From what I can tell, it's the same way with foster kids."

She's not going to cry. And she's not going to believe him. Kids are a lot more work than pets. Even if Clarke wants to keep her, it might not be a personality trait. He might be wrong. And if he's right, well--

If he's right, Clarke won't throw her away for being cautious. If he's right, Clarke won't throw her away for anything. So she can keep on worrying. This doesn't change anything.

Jordan climbs down the ladder and Gaia follows. "Sorry, Madi," she says, sounding contrite. "My mom called, I have to go home."

"Why are you apologizing to me?" Madi asks. "You're the one who doesn't get to see the kittens any more."

"I need to walk with her," says Jordan. "Her mom doesn't like her going home alone. So--"

"You guys can go ahead," says Bellamy. "I'll take Madi home."

"I'm sorry you don't get to come spy on Clarke," Madi tells Jordan, and he grins.

"I'll get over there later. I'm building to it, so she doesn't turn me into anything weird. Are you doing anything tomorrow?"

"Clarke said she needed help with something, but it might not take all day."

"Okay, cool. Give me a call if you want to hang out, okay?"

They take off, leaving Madi and Bellamy alone, which is only a little awkward. She's seen him every other day or so, since she moved in with Clarke, and she likes him fine, in a fairly limited sense. He's a little easier to deal with than Clarke sometimes, just because there's less pressure. And maybe, she thinks now, because of his sister, because he understands her better. Maybe he hasn't been here, but he's been closer to here than Clarke has. Clarke's dad died when she was in college, Madi knows, and of course it was hard for her, but she still had her mom, her grandmother, a whole galaxy of people who loved her.

Some of the same people who tried to love Madi but couldn't manage it.

"You going to go see the kittens?"

"You're not coming?"

He shrugs. "I've seen them before. I'll call Clarke and see if she wants to come over here for dinner or if we should go to her."

The ladder is smooth and easy to climb, although Madi isn't looking forward to coming down. But the loft itself is cool enough to make up for it, a low ceiling, like Bellamy said, but a lot of space. She hasn't been in his bedroom, but she thinks this probably goes over the whole top of it. There are narrow windows on both sides, letting in more light some cabinets with sliding doors for storage, and, obviously, _cats_.

The gray cat has come up and flopped down to sleep in a sunbeam. There's a huge cat with a fluffy coat of browns and blacks watching her from a pillow like it's royalty, and then the kittens in the corner, mewing and tripping over themselves to come investigate her. The grown cat behind them looks like Halloween, black laced through with orange splotches, big green eyes like lanterns. She watches Madi for a second, like she's sizing her up, trying to decide if Madi's trustworthy, and then she yawns hugely and settles in, closing her eyes.

Meaning Madi can put all her attention on the kittens.

Two of them look like miniature versions of their mother, all black and orange, gold highlights lighting up their little faces. Another is black with a gold tuft on its chest, and the last two are puffy balls of black and white fluff. They're all tiny and adorable and very interested in meeting Madi, pushing their heads against her, mewling, demanding her attention, and Madi's happy to give it. They have toys to jump on and bowls full of food and water, and she has to admit that if she was a kitten, this would probably be paradise.

Even as a human, it's pretty great. Her biggest issue is the nagging awareness that she's in Bellamy's house, playing with _his_ animals, and at some point she knows she should stop and go back downstairs, be a real person.

But one of the Halloween cats has curled up into her lap and is purring up a storm, and two of its siblings are pouncing on a piece of string Madi found to twitch at them. She can't leave _now_.

Bellamy apparently doesn't expect her to, either. He sticks his head through the door a few minutes later, giving her a smile. "Clarke's coming for dinner, so you can just hang out up here if you want. How are the kittens?"

"Good. Do they have names?"

"Not yet. The mom is Testudo."

"Testudo?"

"All the cats have shitty Latin names," he says, with a smile. "I started it in high school, and then I had a theme going. Testudo is _turtle_. I mostly call her Test."

"Why turtle?"

"She's a tortoiseshell," he says. "That's what the pattern on her fur is called. The one in your lap is one too."

Madi looks down, stroking one finger over the kitten's back, watching it shudder under her finger. "So why don't the kittens have shitty Latin names?"

He hesitates for a second, but then climbs all the way up, coming to sit next to her. All the kittens except the one in Madi's lap crowd towards him, mewling for his attention, climbing onto his legs and even up his shirt. He does his best to give them all attention, but it's an uphill battle with four kittens and only two hands.

"I'm giving them away, so I don't want to get attached. Not naming them is one way to avoid that."

"You said you were keeping one. Do you know which?"

He picks up the black kitten with the gold chest. "This one."

"Why that one?"

"Because she's my favorite."

Madi looks down at her lap. "Really?"

"She doesn't have to be _your_ favorite," he teases. "You could have that one, when she's old enough."

"Clarke could.

The black kitten starts to squirm and Bellamy puts it back on his leg, letting the other Halloween--tortoiseshell--cat rub up against his outstretched finger. "They're about four weeks old right now," he says. "I can't give any of them away for another month at least. So we can see how you're feeling about taking one then." He bites the corner of his mouth. "I'm thinking I want to name mine Aura."

"What does that mean?"

"Aurum is Latin for gold, but it's not a great name. If you put an a on the end of a word in Latin, it makes it feminine, and aura means air, and that's good too. So, Aura."

"What's Latin for pumpkin?" she asks, looking down at her own kitten. Or, rather, the kitten in her lap. Not _her_ kitten.

"Not sure. There might not be an exact translation, I think pumpkins are new world food. But there's probably something. You want to call her Pumpkin?"

"She looks like a Halloween cat."

Bellamy fishes his phone out of his pocket and types quickly, checking a few things. "Cucurbita," he says, showing her the screen. "Looks like that covers basically all the squashes and gourds."

"Cucurbita," Madi repeats. 

"Cookie for short," he says.

"Cookie?"

"Or whatever you want. She's your kitten. For now," he adds. "For as long as you can take her. And if you can't take her, I will."

"Why do you want me to have a kitten so much?"

"Because Clarke won't let me give her one. You guys need a pet. Pets are great."

"I feel like you're biased. As the local, um--cat person."

"I have a dog too."

"Clarke has chickens."

"Chickens aren't pets."

"I was more worried about the cat hurting the chickens."

"My cats wouldn't do that," Bellamy says, as if she's personally offended him.

"You know Jordan and Gaia think you're a wizard or something, right? The weird guy who lives in the woods and talks to his cats. Stuff like that is probably why."

"I am a weird guy who lives in the woods and talks to his cats. But who doesn't talk to their pets?" he asks, scratching Test under her chin when she comes over to say hi to him. "Everyone does that."

Madi doesn't point out that they're in a loft he built for this purpose, surrounded by _eight_ cats, all of whom adore him. She just smiles and gives Cucurbita's head a scratch. "Yeah, never mind. That's not weird at all."

*

"So, I think it's time for you to start helping out," Clarke tells her, the next morning.

"Helping out?"

"There are a lot of chores to do in the morning. I've been doing them alone, but I'd like if you took on some responsibility. We can work together for a few days, and then we can work on dividing tasks up, depending on what you like and what you're good at."

It's not a surprise, not until Clarke starts showing her the actual tasks. Some of them are the normal kinds of things she's always done, washing dishes, picking up stray books, but most of the daily chores are a little more rustic than she was used to as a city kid.

Starting with tending the chickens.

"I usually do this earlier in the day," Clarke explains. "Before breakfast. I know you might not want to get up that early regularly, but I want you to try it a couple times. Tomorrow and the next day, maybe? And then if getting up to do chicken stuff isn't for you, we'll take it off your plate."

In theory, Madi would like to take care of the chickens. They're dumb and kind of annoying, but she likes animals, and finding the eggs is kind of exciting, some weird treasure hunt. Getting up early might not be worth it, but she's willing to give it a shot.

"Sounds good. Why do you have chickens? Were they your grandmother's?"

"Yeah. I guess her family always had them. My dad said she made him take care of them when he was a kid too. She couldn't take care of them for the last few years, so she got Bellamy to do it until I moved in."

"And you want to keep them?"

"You don't?"

"No, I like them. But that doesn't mean you do."

"I guess I could get rid of them once these ones die, but I like fresh eggs. And I like them. It feels like keeping Gram's traditions alive."

"This is why the neighborhood kids think you're a witch."

"This one one of like twenty reasons that the neighborhood kids think I'm a witch." She flashes Madi a smile. "I've heard all this stuff before, remember?"

"What about Bellamy?"

"He's heard it too."

"Not that. When did kids start thinking he was magic?"

It's something that's been bothering her, less in terms of logic than timeline. Bellamy is a couple years older than Clarke, thirty-one, but Jordan and Gaia seem to see him as a fact of life. Clarke, at least, makes sense, because she's a legacy. She heard the stories about her grandmother when she was a kid; her dad might have heard the stories, too. As long as the house looked like that, there would be stories about it.

Bellamy, though. Bellamy's infamy must have been recent. 

"He built the house--" She clucks her tongue. "When his sister went to college, so maybe eight years ago? Probably around then. And then local kids started realizing he knew a lot about the woods and was good with animals. Honestly, it doesn't take long to make a local legend. Especially not when you can back it up with actual skills."

"How did you meet him?"

"About the same way you met Jordan. Or, more like you met Gaia, I guess. I met Raven first--Raven Reyes, she doesn't live around here anymore. She was friends with Bellamy and introduced us. We didn't get along at first, not for a couple years, honestly. But when we clicked, we really clicked. He's been my best friend for--fifteen years? Something like that."

"But you just saw him over the summer?"

"We emailed a lot. Instant messages, stuff like that. I talked to him more than I talked to a lot of people I actually went to school with." She shrugs, smiles a little as she scatters feed for the chickens. "Which I guess is why we're best friends."

"How old were you the first time you came out here for the summer?"

"Around your age. It was the summer before I turned twelve."

They finish up with the chickens in silence, but it's nice silence, companionable. Clarke seems like the kind of person who likes being quiet, and Madi does too. It's nice to just be with someone without feeling the need to fill up the air with chatter to stave off awkwardness. 

"Okay," Clarke says, when they're done with the chickens. "Next up is the garden."

To Madi's surprise, that's actually really cool too. She's never been particularly interested in gardening, but she's curious about Clarke's garden, which is full of ugly, practical plants, not flowers. She wants to learn what all of them are and what they do, why Clarke grows them. 

And Clarke is more than willing to tell her. She's is a careful teacher, the kind that grates when Madi isn't interested in the material. But since she is, it's great. She patiently answers every question, knows the name and use of every plant: cooking, medicine, cleaning. Catnip, of course, for Bellamy's cats. 

"You really are a witch," Madi says. "Why else would you be growing this?"

Clarke yanks up a weed. "What would you say if I was?"

"If you were what?"

"A witch. What if I am?"

The thing about the stories that kids tell, about their urban legends, is that adults don't confirm or deny. They let kids have their magic, but they don't go along with it, not like this.

"I'd say you had to prove it," she says, careful. Clarke can be kind of of awkward, not sure how to interact with her, but she's _so_ serious. Her jokes are usually a lot more telegraphed.

"I figured. It's easier for Bellamy," she says, with a sigh. "He can just talk to his dog and everyone believes him."

Her jaw drops. "Wait, you're telling me Bellamy's a witch too?"

"He's magic," she says. "But a different kind. Gram always called him _that druid boy_. He thought it was funny. She loved him."

"You're serious," Madi finally says. 

"I am. I didn't know how to tell you. That's why Gram was keeping an eye on you. Because she thought you might have gotten the power too."

She opens and closes her mouth, trying to figure out what to say. It can't be _real_ , but Clarke isn't smiling. She's watching Madi with steady eyes, like she's waiting for something. Waiting for Madi to accept this.

"Did I?" she asks.

"You did, yeah. There are signs, Gram taught me. But your powers won't wake up until you turn twelve."

"That's why you started coming here," she says. "That's why you took me in."

She looks uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"For having an ulterior motive. Lying to you."

Madi almost _laughs_. It's completely absurd, that Clarke seems to think that this makes it worse. Everything makes so much more sense, if this is true. If Clarke is a witch, and she's a witch, if this is some legacy, then of course Clarke took her. Of course Clarke is keeping her. It would probably be dangerous, to have an untrained witch in the world.

"You still haven't showed me any of your powers," she says instead.

"It's not as cool as you're thinking. A lot of it is just--potions. Charms. Small stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"You know how all the kids in town think if they have a hurt animal, they should bring it to Bellamy and he'll make it better? He's not actually the one who does the healing. He just calms them down so they don't bite me. Or Gram, before I moved back. We're the healers."

"But he gets all the credit."

Clarke shrugs, plucking a leaf off one of the plants and examining it. "It's not like your friends don't think I have powers too. I don't mind not kids not bringing hurt squirrels to my door." She grins. "Honestly, I like that they're afraid of my door."

It's hard to argue with that. "So what can you show me?"

Clarke closes her fist around the leaf, closes her eyes in concentration for a second, and lets a fine brown dust blow out of her hand into the wind. When she opens her hand again, it's empty, which is definitely a cool trick, but it's not really very exciting, as witchcraft goes.

"Okay, and?" she finally asks.

"Give it ten more minutes," Clarke says. "Finish weeding."

They're not quite done when the rain starts, an unexpected storm drifting in from a clear blue sky, hitting them with a few fat droplets before they make it into the house.

"Fifteen minutes of storm per leaf," Clarke says, watching the downpour through the window. She looks just a little smug, and Madi can't blame her; she probably doesn't get many chances to show off. "Not a good idea to do very often."

"It must really confuse weather guys."

"And the rain can't just come out of nowhere. You can really screw up weather patterns. But it was supposed to rain later today, so this should have just made it happen sooner. And harder."

"No offense, but that's still not that exciting."

"That's not it," says Clarke. "It's just an easy one to demonstrate. I'll show you more. But a lot of it is--a lot of being a witch is not using your powers. The bigger the spell, the less likely it is you'll ever use it."

"Do you use any spells regularly? Except for healing animals."

"A lot of it's animals. The chickens, Bellamy's whole menagerie, whatever anyone finds and brings him. But it's also just--good luck, stuff not breaking, food not burning. Little things."

"And that's what you're going to teach me? Little things?"

"And big things." She smiles, this shy expression that makes so much more sense now. Everything makes more sense now, all the pieces slotting into place. "I've never taught anyone before. I was hoping Gram would still be alive to help with you. But you've got me, and we'll figure out what you need to know. Deal?"

She's not going to let her guard down entirely. She's not _sure_ this is the real deal. But Clarke isn't just going to let her go out into the world as an untrained witch. And maybe the first thing she can learn is a luck spell.

She thinks she's due for some good luck. Past due, even. 

"Deal," she tells Clarke, letting herself smile. "I'm looking forward to it."

Clarke smiles back. "Yeah, me too."


End file.
